


Prediction

by Needs_More_Lesbians



Series: Stargazers [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Character Death, Cursed Child was dumb so I fixed it, Emotional Manipulation, Fluff, Horror, Multi, OC's - Freeform, cults for beginners, graphic descriptions of child abuse, there's kind of a little of everything here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-21 05:16:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12450384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Needs_More_Lesbians/pseuds/Needs_More_Lesbians
Summary: In which James Sirius Potter lives up to all three of his names, Teddy comes to terms with his nature, and Albus questions his sexuality.





	1. Prolouge

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a large body of work, which will be a sort of re-imagining for the adventures of the next generation of Harry Potter. Conflict will go from silly to serious quite fast, and there will be chapter warnings where they are relevant. For this chapter, watch out for graphic descriptions of child abuse and violence at the very beginning.
> 
> Abel Gaunt is my own OC, and Monica Malfoy belongs to her creator.

Mama was screaming again.

Abel wasn’t sure where the screams were coming from or why they were happening, but he knew that he needed to stay where he was until they stopped. That was what usually worked. He stayed quiet and everybody would soon forget he was there. 

_“God, end it, fucking end it!”_

He grips tight to his ragged quilt, torn and thinned out in places.

“Shush, shut up.” Abel’s voice is tiny and high pitched as he sits curled up against his pillow.

She doesn’t shut up-she keeps on screaming. The noise is making him angry. His glare is steel and remains fixed on his closed bedroom door. Trying to tune her out isn’t working tonight. Usually he’ll kill flies that buzz around his room or sneak out of the window to walk outside. Sometimes leaving the house was a better idea than staying put.

But she screams again, and this time it’s long and wailing and sounds hurt, and Abel uncurls himself and settles his bare feet on the floor.

His steps across the room are clumsy. He stops when he reaches the door. Going out is a bad idea. Going out usually means he’ll get in trouble.

Abel stands next to the door and looks up at the knob over his head. The brass is old and glints at him, and the screams continue.

He breathes out a little huff of air, feathery bangs puffing away from his forehead at the gust.

 _”Why can’t you leave me alone?!”_.

Abel’s chest tightens as a shattering sound comes from the other side of the door. Something had broken, but it sounded far away, and it hadn’t been thrown in the direction of his room. Maybe she didn’t know he was there.

Abel reached up to catch the door, handle smooth and cold beneath his hand.

The door creaked open, just an inch or so. Abel peeked his head through the crack.

Something else broke up ahead. His arms wrap up around his shoulders, his thumbs running over the scratchy fabric of his sweater. It doesn’t smell really good, but it’s warm and snug, and he’s started to sleep in it because the weather was getting cold.

He began to walk down the hall, eyes skittering everywhere. There weren’t very many pictures on the wall. He saw a few portraits of his Mama and Uncle, and an old man with a beard, but there were no pictures of him.

Abel swallowed and looked away from the walls, but without looking at anything, he only ended up tuning in more to the continuous screaming that echoed down the hall.

He knew sometimes Mama screamed for no reason, but even if there wasn’t one, he had to make sure first. Screaming was screaming. It always meant something bad would happen.

The door at the end of the hall swung forward to meet him, and Able choked on a scared noise.

Mama was lying down on her bed-he could see the flowered comforter peeing over the sides of the frame. The sheets were white, but something dark was dripping down from the side of the covers, and Mama was lifting her right arm and then bringing it down over and over again.

He hugged himself tighter.

“You should have died. The potion should have killed you, you little shit! God should have killed you!! I took that potion every goddamn day!!”

Mama was hitting herself in the stomach.

Abel took a few more shaking steps until he was standing at the side of her bed, one hand on the side for balance. He peeked up over the side to get a better look at her face.

Mama sat up. Her hair was curly, like always, but matted and sweaty, too. Abel recognized that her face, when she looked at him, had gone blank and far away.

“Hello, Abel.”

He swallowed, watching her carefully. 

“...H-Hi, Mama.”

“Why are you looking so scared?” Looking at him, the right corner of her mouth twitched upward, but no other part of her face moves, almost like a spasm. Abel liked that she was smiling, but that didn’t always mean she was happy.

“Come here and sit by me, baby.”

She pats the side of the bed. It’s wet and red.

Abel swallows and stares at her for a few seconds before slowly climbing on top of the bed and sitting next to her. She curls her arm around him to mold him to her side-her dress is wet, too. Abel sniffs.

“Are you crying?”

He shakes his head no. Her hand works though his hair, petting the strands down, and Abel shuts his eyes.

“You were never supposed to be born.”

He lets her words drift over him, distracted by the sensation of being held. “Okay, Mama.”

“Your existence is the result of one of the foulest things in nature.”

He doesn’t know what many of those words mean. “Yes, Mama.”

“I’m the only one who can fix this, Abel.”

He opens his eyes.

Mama is holding a knife.

“Hold still, you little shit.”

With a high-pitched whine, Abel scrambles backward. The arc of the swing misses and jabs into the mattress, fluff exploding everywhere.

“I said-”

She swings, and he falls off the bed.

“Hold-”

He can’t breathe, and he crawls backwards on his hands and feet.

“-STILL!!”

But a shard of glass makes her slip and she plummets. The knife she was holding scatters away across the hardwood floor.

The handle is polished cherrywood.

It lands facing him.

Shakily, Abel stands and picks the knife up. Mama is crawling towards him, still screaming.

“He loved me until you!! /Until you!!/”

She’s hysterical, drool pooling from her slacked jaw, her skin white and waxy. Her fingers clamp around his ankle.

Abel takes the knife in both hands, lifts his arms up over his head, and stabs downward.

The screaming stops. Only a wet, choking sound is audible as his mother gasps, fingers slackening from his ankle. Her body is propped up on one forearm, the other hand grasping at her throat from which the silver point of the knife protrudes.

Again, she reaches up, and this time tanks him down to his knees by his sweater, pulls him close to her level.

“You…..Are a blessing….Abey….”

Her words, strangled, leave a spray of blood against his cheek.

Mama’s eyes go far away. She lands on her face on the floor.

It’s the closest he ever gets to an “I love you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And I won't tell you again, James! If you get written up again, that's it for your broomstick this Christmas, do you hear? I’m starting to be able to recognize McGonagall's handwriting at this rate, and it's only been a year!”

Albus’s eyes blinked open groggily, and instantly, he felt his lower stomach start to churn. A dead weight seemed to pin him to his bed, either from sleep or from anxiety, he wasn't sure. Outside, rain pattered against the window as if even the outside weather was suggesting he stay at home. 

He turned his head to look out of the window, already made glossy and clouded by the rain. It was still dark outside, clouds blocking the early morning rays of the sun. Albus yawned and burrowed deeper into his covers. 

“Mum, I was only joking!” His elder brother’s voice filtered in from outside. “Uncle Georgie said you couldn't take a joke.”

The common course of argument from outside his bedroom down the hall continued to play out from the living room as he lay wrapped up in his comforter, covers drawn up to his nose. Already, the voices were starting to die down, which was good. He wasn't starting the day off in the middle of an argument. Not on his first day of school.

There was a short rapping of knuckles on his bedroom door. Dad’s nonverbal warning that it was time to get up.

He grunted and rolled over. The mattress always seemed softest in the morning when he had to get up, never at night when he was falling asleep. The twin-sized bed had been a gift from Mum for his eighth birthday, a reward when his nightmares died down and he didn't have to keep sleeping in James’s bed. Having his own room was far better. It was quiet, for one thing, and for another, James couldn't pester him as easily. 

The wood beneath the carpet groaned in protest as he finally swung his legs over the side of the bed and settled his bare feet on the floor. He debated taking a shower and trying to comb his hair, which presently was in a tiny tuft like a chicken, but decided against it. 

“Coming!” His blankets lay in a crumpled heap on his bed. Usually he made it up, but he wouldn't be sleeping in it for months after today. The thought made him somehow even more nervous. 

He was met with cold as he started down the hall. Albus wasn't a big fan of winter. The hallway was already freezing as he walked past the brown-painted walls with a half unbuttoned collar and bare feet. His clothes would be warmer, and he’s sure his Mother will have a pile folded neatly and waiting for him in the bathroom, so he braved the icy hallway.

On the walls, a few moving pictures of himself waved and smiled into the dark. He glanced at them, looking through a reflection of eleven years in about eight pictures. One was of him by himself. The photo was of him on his eighth birthday, one of the few solo pictures where James hadn’t stuck his tongue out at the camera in the background. The others were with his siblings, his parents, or both. Albus was giving the same small, shy smile in each one.

He looked away and rubbed sleep from his right eye. Thankfully, his blurred vision was only due to his grogginess, and not his father’s bad eyesight genetics.

A stream of already way too hot water issued from the showerhead as he turned on the tap. The bathroom was a small one, too small for a family of five, but at least James or Lily hadn’t beaten him this time around. However, James had left his mark-an untidy pile of his laundry was sitting on the counter. Albus wrinkled his nose at the sight before electing to ignore it-it wasn’t his problem.

Albus brushed his teeth and attempted to think of a good excuse for staying home as he waited for the water temperature to adjust. In the large, rectangular mirror, he gave himself a once over. The glass was already beginning to steam up, but it worked. He reached up and scratched the top of his scalp beneath locks of dark brown hair, which thankfully had a bit more leeway in lying flat, even if it were a tad curlier than his siblings. He deemed his appearance marginally acceptable, and left the comb in its place in the drawer. 

Albus also figured the tiny cut just along the bridge of his nose was doing okay. James had been running down the stairs too fast, and Albus had been the unfortunate barrier in his way, and was subsequently knocked over and nicked his nose on the hardwood floor. It was already scabbed over. It itched a little bit, but looked alright, and he didn’t place a bandaid on it upon entering the shower. James, clueless and accident prone as he was, had been incredibly bothered when the injury had occurred. He was like that-seemed all smiles and energy, but was quick to blame himself when the slightest thing went wrong. But, the fall could have been much worse-though he supposed a concussion would have gotten him out of going to school. Which might have been worth it.

He frowned and looked away from his reflection. It seemed like James was the only one excited about Albus starting school, and he was half certain that was just because James wanted somebody to show off to. For a while, Albus had been excited, but then James had enthralled him with a long and thrilling tale about being chased by the Bloody Baron through the halls at night, and Albus had changed his mind. Despite both his mother and father’s reassurances, Albus was very much second guessing Hogwarts, and likely would for the entirety of the train ride and his educational career.

James had told him to buck up, even admitted that he might have made some of the stuff up, but change wasn’t usually a welcome thing for Albus. Really, he was just not liking the idea of making new friends, even if he did have his big brother to fall back on-well, brothers plural, if you counted Teddy.

It wasn’t until he was showered, dried, and had changed into his clothes that Albus was highly considering the possibility of hiding somewhere and hoping everyone would leave without him. Still, he exited the bathroom, looked uncertainly down the hall, and then entered the sitting room.

His father was sitting in his usual spot in the chair, looking over a copy of the Daily Prophet. For being still considered a savior of the modern wizarding world, Harry Potter looked rather disappointingly normal-he’d grown a beard and his hair had gotten longer, but that was the way he’d always looked. For the weight their surnames carried, there wasn’t much in the way of theatrics when it came to the Potters. It was everybody else expecting them to be something that was the main problem.

Albus walked over and sat on the couch with a heavy sigh, causing his father to glance up over his glasses. Albus met him with a somber stare. Harry, however, entreated him with a gently amused smile, arching a brow. “Where’s the funeral, Al?”

“...I really have to go?”

Three’s a rustle of paper as his father folds the news and settles it down on his knees. “Unless you’d like to stay here and watch your sister all day.”

That’s somehow an even worse option, and Albus’s frown deepens. He loves his sister, but she’s as rowdy as his brother, and he was typically the one blamed for her misadventures. 

Albus grunted his assent.

 

As if on cue, the redheaded girl peeked around the corner of the hall. Out of the three, Lilly looked the most like her mother, from the hair to the smattering of freckles across her face. “Daddy,” she said in a long-suffering sort of voice. “Jimmy hid my bear again.”

“I did not hide your bear.” The loud, confident voice of his older brother rang out from the hallway, making Albus roll his eyes. “You lost it, that’s what happened.”

“I didn’t lose anything!!”

Albus groaned inwardly. Not again. How come everybody in the house always had to be squabbling?

Maybe going to school was a good idea after all, if only to get away from all the noise. Of course, his father’s attention soon shifted away as he attempted to sort out the argument, playing mediator like usual and leaving Albus to his thoughts.

A few hours later found the Potter family outside in the rain, and Albus was shivering more violently than ever. He had to almost jog to keep up with James’s long strides, and the walking around through Diagon Alley had made his feet tired. The streets were packed with people, mostly first year students and their families doing the same thing Albus and his family was doing, and it made navigating the roads impossible. Puddles had gathered in the streets, and Lily kept trying to wrench her hand out of her mother’s grip to go and splash in them.

Albus folded his arms and kept walking, his head ducked to try and keep the rain from falling on his face. The wind wasn’t up strong, but it was still cold. When he looked up, however, his family was nowhere in sight.

“...Dad?”

There were so many people.

Albus was being nudged by all sides, small enough that he almost feared being trampled underfoot.

“Moooom!!”

He stood on his tiptoes, scanning over the tops of heads for a familiar splash of orange. His bangs plastered to his forehead, raindrops falling from the tip of his nose.

However, a warm hand soon settled on his shoulder.

“Are you lost, sweetheart?”

Albus jumped, turning quickly to gaze upward at a distinctly motherly-looking woman wearing a long coat. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, love. I don’t mean to frighten. My name’s Astoria-it’s my son’s first year as well. Have you lost your parents?” A warm smile appears on her face and Albus thinks she looks the very definition of motherly.

Albus gave a quick nod, nerves still making him stutter when he replied. “Yes,um-Harry and Ginny Potter? I think they went-” He craned over his shoulder, only to frown deeply in defeat.

“Oh, goodness-I should have known, you look a little like his eldest. James, right?”

Albus nodded, ignoring the slight sinking sensation at being recognized only due to his brother.

“Oh, we’ll find them-don’t worry. Why don’t you come stand out of the crowd dear? My daughter’s gone off to look at racing brooms.” That smile was still on her face.

“...Yeah, okay,” he said after a long moment of hesitance.

As if on maternal instinct, Astoria guided an arm around his shoulders and lead him to stand near the curb. Across the river of people, Albus could catch a few glimpses of two blonde children aroud his age looking in through the window of a shop.

“I’ve told them they won’t be getting brooms until they need them, but Draco seems to think otherwise.” There’s a small sigh along with her words. On impulse, Albus tries to establish some common ground.

“My mum says James doesn’t get a broom if he gets into trouble again.”

A tinkling laugh leaves Astoria at the statement. At the sound, one of the children-the boy, Albus sees, turns and waves, and it isn’t a moment later that Astoria is beckoning them both over.  
“Monica! Scorpious! Over here, please!”

Albus is already shifting from foot to foot. Meeting one person was bad enough, but three?”

“Mum, the new line of Firebolt is only three hundred, are you sure we can’t-”

A look from Astoria silences the remainder of the older girl’s questions, and leaves her with her mouth shut. Soon, though, a pair of blue eyes find Albus, and look at him in appraisal.

“Aren’t you Teddy’s kid brother?”

“Be nice, love.” A note of chiding has entered Astoria’s voice. “Albus got lost. Neither of you have seen Mr and Mrs. Potter around here, have you?”

At this, the boy-Scorpious-speaks up. “I thought they were at Ollivanders?”

“He’d be with them if they were at Oilvander’s, dummy. Besides, he’s got a wand already, see?”

Albus holds his bags tighter to his chest.

“Al-Hey, AL!!”

For once, Albus is thankful to hear the voice of his older brother. A second later, James shows up, hair and glasses all askew.

“Where the hell were you? Mum’s about to have a cow or three.”

“I got lost,” the younger Potter replied. 

“No kidding. C’mon, will you?” James slings an arm around his shoulders, half guiding him away before he stops and meets eyes with the Malfoy girl.

“Nice hat.”

She glares, tugs the wide brim of her hat, and that seems to be the end of that conversation.

The train ride is a long one. He passes a few familiar faces-Hugo and Rose both give him hugs, Teddy ruffles his hair (Teddys hair is bright yellow today, probably to match his house robes), and his cousin Victiore kisses him on both cheeks.

But, with his luck, the compartments are full.

There’s only one left, and it houses a pale looking boy dressed in Slytherin robes. His hair is a dark red, and when Albus peeks his head in with a quiet “D’you mind?” there is no actual response aside from a shrug. His expression doesn’t even change.

It’s going to be a very long year.


	2. Sorting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scorpius makes some new friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter this time, with some variations on the houses. Hope you enjoy!

“Last names aren’t anything besides a combination of vowels and syllables. They don’t dictate how a person will grow up to be.” That’s what his mother had told him as he got ready to board the train. “You’re going to be just fine, Scorpius. You just be the intelligent, kind-hearted person I know you are, and you’ll make friends in no time-I promise.”

She seems to convinced and unworried that Scorpius feels almost silly about the knots curling in his stomach. He gives his mother a smile and a nod and she beams from where she’s kneeling in front of him and gives him a hug and he tries not to let his nervousness show on his face.

It’s in the next few seconds that he’s out of her arms and thrown into the mechanical jungle that is the Hogwarts Express, filled with shouting students and chaos the likes of which he isn’t at all used to. There’s still a bar of honeydukes chocolate in the pocket of his trousers, and he anxiously fiddles with the wrapper and considers just eating it instead of trying to use it to make some new friend. He banishes through thought, though, because the chocolate may or may not be the only thing keeping him from a first year spent knowing no one aside from his elder sister. Before he can get too overwhelmed by all the excited shouting and pushing, Scorpius ducks his head and walks down the hallway past several glass compartments, just focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.

He forgets his mother’s words as soon as some snarling voice calls him ‘Malfoy’. The greeting curls up into his ears like a poison and soon he feels stamped by six letters that dictate what’s expected from him. He swallows and tries to ignore it, his feet walking faster down the corridor as he scans for some empty compartment-any empty compartment. But everywhere is full and his sister is nowhere to be found.

Scorpius stops once he reaches the end of the train car and feels his face burn and repeats his mother's words over and over in his head. He can’t remember really being on his own somewhere before-usually Monica was with him, or his mother, or his father. He lifts his head and looks around again, catching sight of a few teenagers taller than him arguing about quidditch, a few kids his age fussing over someone’s pet owl-nobody he recognizes. He turns to walk back up the corridor in the futile hope that maybe he’s missed an empty spot before he runs smack dab into someone much taller than he is-and, with a blink of startlement, he realizes the boy’s hair is bright blue. Scorpius takes a step back and begins to stutter an apology, but the boy grins broadly as if there was no greater pleasure than being ran straight into.

“Careful, there! You alright?” 

His voice is loud, but seems to be brimming with a barely contained excitement, and Scorpius nods his head. “Sure, I’m fine.” He sounds high-pitched and babyish compared to the older boy, and he soon regrets even speaking at all. But standing there in silence would’ve been worse, anyway. 

“Well, that’s good at least. Mad in here, isn’t it? It usually is.”

Scorpius nods again with a reflexive smile as he wonders why this clearly older boy wants to talk to him.

“I’m Teddy-from Hufflepuff. I’m guessing this is your first year?”

Well, that explains it. Teddy Lupin was someone his sister talked about. According to her he was goofy, but nice to just about everyone, and that makes sense when Scorpius catches sight of the gold badge pinned to his robes-he’s Head Boy.

“Yes. I’m, um, Scorpius. Not from a house, though. Not yet.”

His awkward rambling does nothing to deter Teddy’s friendlyness, and the blue-haired boy gives a laugh and leans his shoulder on the side of the compartment next to them. “It’s always an adjustment the first year, but you’ll get along just fine once you know your way around. You can trust me on that. And hey, maybe you’ll be put in my house and I’ll be able to show you around myself!”

“Yeah...Maybe.” Scorpius has heard his father make a few jokes about Hufflepuff, but being put in the same house as Teddy doesn’t sound so bad at all. At least it would be good to know someone in his house, anyway.

“Are you looking for Monica? Or just wandering?”

Scorpius scans the corridor once again before giving a small shrug. “Um, wandering, I guess?”

“Want to come sit with us? We’re a bit loud, but we’re fun!”

Teddy grins again and gestures with his head to the compartment just behind him. Following the movement, Scorpius looks through the glass, which isn’t crowded with people, but has enough to give the atmosphere of a small house party. There are two boys with jet-black hair, one talking and waving his hands in enthusiasm and the other trying to read, and a girl with curly red hair that he assumes must be a Weasley.

Once he sits down beside Teddy in the compartment, he learns their names-James, Albus and Rose. James is loud and seems to be very pleased with himself whenever he makes anybody laugh, Rose is snarky but tells Scorpius that she likes his hair, and Albus is just as quiet as he is.

In fact, it’s not until James and Teddy leave to go chat up a few more friends that Albus speaks a word.

“See, now I can’t even remember what page I was on,” he says, his brow furrowing as he looks through his book. Scoripius blinks incredulously-has Albus really been trying to find his page the whole time.

“What are you reading?” Sorpius asks, fighting to make even slight conversation with the boy.

Albus looks a tad surprised that he’s being addressed. “Erm, it’s actually this book about early quidditch that James loaned me, but I’m not actually liking it that much.”

A glance downward reveals that Albus isn’t even a quarter of the way through.

“Don’t tell him, though- he seemed really excited about it.”

“I won’t tell him,” Scorpius promises.

Then, after a moment’s thought…

“D’you like chocolate?”

Albus shuts his books and regards Scorpius quizzically. “Well….Sure, I guess so.”

Enthused, Scorpius removes the bar from his pocket, unwraps it, and snaps it in half before handing a piece to the boy across from him. Albus accepts it and takes a bite.

“Thanks, um...Scorpius, right?”

He nods in confirmation, and Albus speaks again.

“Do you think ‘Scorp’ is a good nickname, or does it just sound stupid?”

A laugh leaves him, and he shakes his head. “I think ‘Scorp’ sounds fine. What about you? Do people call you Al?”

“Sometimes,” Albus admits. “James usually does, so I just call him Jimmy back. He hates it.”

It’s almost as if Scorpius has been let in on a secret, and he feels excitement mount. He's actually making a friend on his own-they weren’t even at school yet!

“So,” Albus continues, “What house d’you want to be put in?”

“I’m not sure. I guess Hufflepuff wouldn’t be too bad…” 

Albus nods. “Teddy really likes it there. Apparently everyone’s really friendly, and the common room always has snacks.”

“What about you?” 

His response is immediate. “Oh, I’ll get Gryffindor. My parents both got it, and so did my brother.”

Scorpius feels his brow furrow. “Okay, but what do you want to get?”

Albus opens his mouth before going quiet. It’s almost as if he hasn’t considered it himself.

“Well…” he says, slowly. “I think...I think Ravenclaw might be cool.”

Scorpius smiles. “Ravenclaw would be cool. D’you reckon you’re smart enough?”

Albus flashes him a sneaky smile. “I’m smarter than this lot-”

“Watch it, Al.” Rose pipes up and shoots him a glance over her magazine. “Anyone can be smarter than James, but if you’re trying to compete with me, that’s a whole other story.”

Scorpius isn’t sure what to think, but when Albus laughs, he assumes she’s joking.

He _assumes._

Later, once the train pulls up and they begin the walk to the great hall, Scorpius feels his nerves churn again. It’s nice to have Albus to talk to and walk beside, but the feeling of eyes on him isn’t very agreeable. A glance at the Gryffindor table reveals his older sister, who waves and mouths a “Good luck!” At the Hufflepuff Table, Teddy winks at him and waves to Albus.

He feels a little bit better.

The sorting seems to take forever, and with each name called, Scorpius feels his nerves mount.

“Tulley, Savannah!”

“HUFFLEPUFF!!”

His father was in Slytherin before the hat even touched his head.

“Garrow, Marvin!”

“GRYFFINDOR!!”  
What if that’s where he ends up?

“Butler, William!”

“RAVENCLAW!”

Albus is tensing up beside him, and Scorpius knows he’s not the only nervous one. Finally-

“Malfoy, Scorpius!”

He swallows, and his stomach gives a terriffic lurch as he goes up to the stool. People are whispering and staring, and he’s not sure which one he hates more. The sorting hat covers his eyes when it’s placed on his head-it’s way too big for him.

“ _Second Malfoy, I see….Let’s have a look…._ ”

He wonders vaguely if he’s going to be sick.

“ _Well, I see a fairly good amount of bravery, and not a bad mind, either...Let’s think…._ ”

Scorpius squeezes his eyes shut.

“ _The amount of compassion is making me lean towards…_ ”

“HUFFLEPUFF!!”

Cheers erupt from the East side of the hall as the hat is removed and the brightness makes him squint. Hufflepuff-he’ll be with Teddy Lupin and the free snacks.

That’s not bad. A slow smile spreads over his face as he walks down the the table beneath the yellow banners.

That’s not bad at all.

When Albus is called, Scorpius crosses his fingers for Hufflepuff, but the bright grin on the dark-haired boy’s face when Ravenclaw is called makes him feel even better.


End file.
